Читать книгу Deadline - Maggie K. Black - Страница 13

FOUR

Fire flashed in her eyes. Jack felt his chest tighten, as the depth of her emotion tugged at something deep inside him. Compassion? Concern? For the first time in his career, the journalist found himself struggling to find the right words to fit his thoughts. All he knew was he could feel the urge to wrap his arms around her surging through his veins, making him want things he could never have. Like the feel of her head tucked safely into the curve of his throat as he promised her he’d never do anything that would ever hurt her.

Don’t let yourself get emotionally compromised, Jack. You still have a job to do and your future depends on your ability to stay objective. Even if you did just save this woman’s life.

His career was hanging by a thread; he’d just witnessed an attack he believed to be by the very serial killer whom he’d risked everything to expose. Plus, he’d promised the Lord, years ago, he’d never again let his feelings compromise the truth of a story. No matter how strong those feelings might be.

“My little brother is one of the kindest, most generous, most bighearted men you’ll ever meet.” She was practically hissing. “Benji loves God and other people more than anyone I know. He’d practically treat our home like a free hotel to every sports nut coming through the island if I let him.”

Oh, if he had a nickel for every woman he’d heard arguing that her brother, son or husband was really a good guy, while the man was being dragged off by the police for committing some violent crime for the umpteenth time.

He took a step back and crossed his arms. “I’ll ask you again, does your brother have a criminal record?”

“No!” Her voice rose. “Years and years ago, when Benji was only fifteen, he and a friend named Chris Quay were in a terrible snowmobile accident. Chris died. Benji just barely managed to pull through. Yeah, the police questioned him, because that’s what happens when a kid dies. The fact that they followed procedure doesn’t make it anything other than what it was—a horrible, tragic accident. But in the minds of some people, that was enough to taint his reputation for the rest of his life.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t! You’re from the big city, where nobody knows their neighbors’ business, let alone cares if the person filling up their gas tank ever got questioned by police for reckless driving.” She ran both hands through her hair and let it fall back around her heart-shaped face. “But it’s a whole other world on the island. Do you know how many people live in most of these towns? Hundreds. That’s all. And most of the families have been here for several generations. Reputations run deep, because families tend to know each other through work, or school, or because their grandparents built some important building.” She pressed her hand against her chest and took in a deep breath.

“So, you’re saying your brother wasn’t arrested for stealing a dog?”

Both her hands shot up in the air, as if she were fighting the urge to punch an imaginary enemy. “No! My brother’s a bit scatterbrained sometimes. But he’s never been arrested for anything. Including stealing.”

“But the young man just said—”

“I don’t know what Benji did today. I haven’t seen him since breakfast. But I guarantee he did not steal anyone’s dog. Especially not Bert McCarthy’s! The man’s in his eighties and probably made it through his whole life without once giving anyone the benefit of the doubt. Three years ago, we had this really heavy, unexpected snowfall in October. Benji was coming home from the shop and didn’t have his snow tires on. He got halfway down the hill by McCarthy’s, hit black ice, and spun out. Took out a huge chunk of the fence. Benji apologized several times. He felt absolutely terrible. He paid for all the repairs and then some. But still, McCarthy wanted the police to charge him. The police wouldn’t. So McCarthy took it through civil court. When the civil court determined Benji had more than paid what he owed, McCarthy took it up through the court of public opinion.”

Jack frowned. If she was being honest, then this would be on public record. All it would take was a quick background check. “Well, I’m sure your brother will tell me his side of the story when I interview him.”

She barked out a laugh. “No. I’m sorry, Jack. But you will never interview Benji. I already told you, I don’t want you writing about us. Not because I’m not grateful for the way you helped me, but because I’m not about to open myself up to gossip any further than I already have. I just want to put this whole thing behind me. Not have every nervous bride who searches my name online, for the rest of my life, wondering if she really wants someone linked to a murderer as her wedding planner.

“If you want to incite mass panic by announcing there’s now a serial killer on the island, I can’t stop you. But you’re just a reporter, not the police, and as far as I’m concerned, what I need right now is a cop.” She started past him, then stopped again. “And while you’re at it, please leave the life ring here. I appreciate that you didn’t want to leave it in the woods. But it’s bad enough that we’re walking through town wet and muddy, without having to look like the survivors of a shipwreck.”

* * *

Jack watched her walk away, across the street toward the striped awning of the diner. Frustration boiled in his veins. Who was she to doubt his professional ethics? Or to tell him what he could and could not write? He sighed. This whole mess was so much more complicated than she realized. The fact of the matter was he didn’t need her permission to write about what had happened on the ferry. He’d been there. He’d seen it. He’d come face-to-face with her would-be killer.

And he’d already risked his career to see this killer exposed.

No, her reluctance to see her name in print wasn’t actually going to stop him from writing this article. It didn’t matter, couldn’t matter, how beautiful her face was, or what kind of heartstrings it tugged in him when she looked up into his eyes. He had a responsibility to report the truth, and that’s what he was going to do. Besides, it wasn’t as if he needed quotes from her. Once they both filed their police reports, all he had to do was report whatever the police said, and then he had a story.

Dear Lord, please help her to understand it isn’t personal. I’m just a man with a job to do.

He checked the life ring for damage and found a crack as long as his palm. The ferry wouldn’t want it back. He tossed it into the Dumpster. Then he followed her across the street.

She was standing in front of the diner window. When he noticed that her shoulders were shaking, his heart dropped. Was she crying? Had he really upset her that deeply? He stepped closer, his heart lifting unexpectedly as the bubbly sound of laughter filled his ears. Her eyes were alight with joy at a joke whose source he couldn’t begin to guess.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “You know how Kenny said my brother was arrested for stealing a dog?” She tapped her fingers on the glass. “Look.”

Two men were sitting in a booth by the window. One was a middle-aged, uniformed cop with a bushy red mustache. The other was built like a lumberjack with a short brown beard and blue eyes that twinkled as he glanced up and saw Meg. Her brother? Probably. A Siberian-husky puppy sat on the seat beside him. The men took turns feeding it bits of donut.

“Come on. Come meet my brother.” She ran through the doorway, sending the bells chiming and crashing as she went, and Jack had to grab the door with his fingertips to keep it from closing on him.

Benji pushed the dog onto the floor, where it slid under the table. Meg dropped into the booth beside her brother.

“Sis!” Her brother’s voice boomed through the room. “You look half-drowned. What happened? Why didn’t I see you get off the ferry? And where on earth are your shoes?”

Meg glanced around the crowded diner. The light dimmed from her eyes, replaced by a look so serious the smiles instantly faded from the men’s faces. “How about you settle up the tab, and then I’ll fill you in somewhere quieter than this?” She turned to the cop and lowered her voice even further. “I have to file a police report. I’m afraid something happened on the ferry.”

The cop sat back. Benji nodded slowly, then raised his hand and waved at a gray-haired waitress, who in turn nodded and headed for the cash register. Benji wrapped one large arm around his tiny sister’s shoulders. A totally unconvincing smile slid across her face.

“Sorry, I should be doing introductions. Jack Brooks, I’d like you to meet Officer Stephen Burne and my brother, Benjamin Duff, the dastardly dog thief. Watch out, Benji—Jack’s a reporter from Torchlight News in Toronto.”

Was she actually making fun of him? No, she was probably just frightened and trying to break the tension. The least he could not was not make things harder for her.

“Nice to meet you.” Jack shook hands around the table.

Benji smiled widely. He pumped Jack’s hand. “I didn’t steal Harry. He just showed up at the sports store this morning and wanted to hang out. I hopped in the truck to come meet the ferry and see if you wanted to grab some food, Meg, and Harry jumped in for the ride. After I parked the car, Officer Burne came over and told me Bert McCarthy called the police accusing me of dognapping.”

Burne rolled his eyes. “Your brother’s agreed to return the dog to McCarthy tonight. Old coot is lucky we don’t charge him for letting his dog run around town without a collar on.”

The waitress raised a bill in their direction. The officer opened his wallet, but Benji waved him off. “No, this one’s on me. Harry ate most of the donuts anyway.”

The reporter watched as Benji went over to the counter and settled the bill. Normally Jack could get a lot out of watching someone do the simplest things, which was what made meeting Benji so perplexing. There was just something so easygoing, cheerful and transparent about the large, bearded man. Most people, including Officer Burne, tended to flinch a little when he said he was a reporter. But Benji had just grabbed his hand like a man who had nothing to hide.

Jack’s every instinct had flared when that drunken kid blurted out that Meg’s little brother might have a history with the law. But now? No, he couldn’t believe it was true. While he’d still do a criminal background check on Benji, just to be thorough, somehow he already knew it would come up empty.

“You remember my son, Malcolm?” Burne said. “He and my daughter-in-law, Alyssa, came in on the ferry. He’s a rookie cop in Toronto, but he’s thinking of moving up here to join his old man. Alyssa’s hoping to start her own wedding business. Might give you some competition.”

Benji returned to the table with a pair of bright pink flip-flops for Meg, which Jack could only assume he’d managed to borrow from someone while sorting the bill. The four of them headed out of the diner for the relative privacy of Burne’s police car. They’d barely gone five steps along the sidewalk before Meg bumped into a young couple, whom she introduced as the bride and groom she’d been escorting on the ferry.

Jack’s inner reporter sized them up. The young bride, Rachel, was stunning but in a rather generic way—blond, with a slender, athletic frame and a plastic beauty-pageant smile, which she’d plastered onto her face in an apparent attempt to hide the obvious irritation in her eyes. The groom, Wesley, was skinny and twitchy, with a mop of chestnut curls and small horn-rimmed glasses. Nervous because Meg introduced Jack as a reporter? Because Burne was a cop in uniform? Or simply because he was getting married in two days? It was impossible to tell. But Jack couldn’t help noticing how Rachel’s fingers clutched her fiancé’s arm, and that while everyone smiled politely, a thin tremor of tension ran through the small talk they exchanged. The bride was preoccupied with the reception details and seemed oblivious of Meg’s state. No wonder Meg had wanted to get away from them on the ferry. Just five seconds in the company of these two and already he was eager to go.

He also noticed that when the bride asked why Meg hadn’t met them at the docks, Meg didn’t say a word about being attacked, let alone thrown overboard. She’d only smiled professionally, apologized and promised yet again to call them later.

For some reason that bothered him. Could he really expect her to just spill the story out to this young couple, sharing her troubles and fears two days before what was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives? Even if she was willing to burden them like that, would it really be professionally appropriate? No. Not quite. Yet his whole career was based on knowing that keeping the wrong things to yourself only put other people at risk. At risk of what, though? Did he really think the Raincoat Killer was about to infiltrate their wedding? The bride was young and rather beautiful, after all.

He didn’t know. That was the problem. It wasn’t as if he’d expected the killer to attack Meg on the ferry either. How could anyone possibly defend herself against an unknown, unseen threat?

Ten minutes later, they were sitting in Burne’s police cruiser with the windows up. Not quite the private room Jack would have hoped for, but with the closest police station half an island away, it would have to do. Meg and the officer sat in the front seat. Jack, Benji and Harry the dog were crowded in the back. Burne had called his supervisor into the conversation and was taking copious, conscientious notes as first Meg and then Jack relayed what had happened on the ferry.

“We’re going to be calling an emergency meeting in with the various island police services.” Burne turned to Jack. “The island actually has more than one police service, including both Aboriginal and provincial forces. It’s important that everyone get up to speed. We’ll have you two tell your stories and then strategize a response. If there is a serial killer on our island, we’ll take every precaution to make sure that people are aware, alert and safe.” Then the cop turned back to Meg. “In the meantime, why don’t we head back to the ferry and get your car and belongings?”

Jack glanced up through the window toward the overcast sky. Thunder rumbled in the dark and distant clouds. Thank You, Lord! After everything he’d gone through in Toronto, the police here looked as though they were taking the threat seriously.

* * *

Meg walked slowly through the bowels of the ferry’s parking deck. The slap of borrowed flip-flops echoed loudly in an empty room, as dark and silent as catacombs. Something about the claustrophobic space always gave her the creeps. The sight of it now, totally bare except for her car sitting alone in the back row, didn’t help matters. Officer Burne walked silently beside her. Everything about the cop radiated how seriously he was taking matters—which somehow didn’t help the tight knots of nerves in her chest. What she needed right now was someone to help lighten the mood, not to remind her with every concerned glance of just how terrified she’d been above-deck, not that much more than a couple of hours earlier. But her brother would have been the one most likely to cheer her up, and she’d insisted that Benji return Harry the dog to McCarthy’s farm before the cranky old man had a heart attack. Meanwhile, Jack had gone above-deck with a member of the ferry’s crew to get his bag.

The backseat of her small blue hatchback was down, and crammed with bags from her shopping trip to the mainland. Burne opened the door for her. “Drive down the ramp and wait for me in the parking lot. I will go check with Mr. Brooks, and then we’ll head over to the police station in tandem. Okay?”

“Absolutely. No problem.”

He closed the door for her, then patted the roof of her car, as if giving it his stamp of approval. She hid a smile. As jittery as she was, she was sure she could handle driving down a ramp and parking her car just fine. She locked the doors anyway.

Meg started the engine and began inching the car slowly through the ferry. She glanced up to the rearview mirror. Burne was watching. She refused to believe that what had happened on the ferry had been anything other than a random attack. Brutal, terrifying, life-shaking—and yet not the slightest bit personal. Now she would have to focus on healing her frightened heart and trusting it to God so that the killer didn’t steal away the peace in her soul. And it would be in the hands of the authorities to protect all of the women on the island by making sure he never struck again. Dear Lord, help them. Help me.

She reached the end of the deck and gently pressed the brakes as she eased her car down the ramp. Something rustled behind her seat. Shopping bags fell over, spilling their contents around the car. A dark shadow rose to fill the rearview mirror.

She looked up, and into the deep, menacing hood of an orange raincoat.